


A Night Out

by westofmoon



Series: Blood and Bones au [1]
Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Almost meetings, F/M, The vaults, boys night out, pit fights, post breakup moping?, set in my blood and bones au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:20:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22661650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westofmoon/pseuds/westofmoon
Summary: set in my Blood and Bones auRowan has an unexpected run-in down in the Vaults.
Relationships: Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien & Rowan Whitethorn, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien/Rowan Whitethorn, Rowaelin - Relationship
Series: Blood and Bones au [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1554304
Kudos: 35





	A Night Out

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place around 1 month before the prologue in the main story.

Rowan Whitethorn did not know what had possessed him to agree to Fenrys’s ridiculous invitation. Fen had been adamant that Rowan was in need of a night out to ‘take his mind off of _things_ ’. It wasn’t hard to surmise that by _things_ Fenrys actually meant _Lyria_. 

He must have still been feeling rather sorry for himself because why else in the name of all the gods would he have agreed to go down to the _Vaults_ , Rifthold’s dark -and often deadly- underbelly, to watch Fenrys’s brother beat men to a bloody pulp in a hole.

Bundled up and looking like a storm cloud given human form in his black clothing and dark gray cloak, Rowan found himself wandering along the maze of tunnels and cavernous spaces that made up the expanse of the Vaults, the two of them biding their time until Connall’s first match was to start.

His easily-identifiable silver hair was tied into a knot at the back of his head, well hidden under his hood, and he made sure to keep his scarf pull up over his mouth, partially concealing his face; both to fight off the bitter early-winter cold, and to prevent himself from being easily recognized, given that pit fighting was very much illegal. 

Releasing a long-suffering sigh, Rowan stood waiting a few feet away as Fen placed bets on his brother to win all of his matches. Once again wondering why he had agreed to come along, Rowan let his gaze drift over the wares in the surrounding stalls, over the men sitting at the open-front bars having a drink of ale and making more private wagers before the start of the fights. 

Rowan was just contemplating going and getting himself a drink, something strong that would burn the entire way down, when suddenly a small, dark blur shot out of no where and slammed into his side. 

“Gah,” he yelped, staggering back a step at the force of the impact, his hood very nearly falling off of his head. Yanking it back down over his face, Rowan’s eyes dropped to the shorter, dark clad figure next to him. “Sorry, I-,” he began, but his apology was cut off as a distinctly female voice began uttering a string of curses, so crude and unexpected that he choked on his own words.

“Watch where you’re going, you lumbering buffoon,” the hooded figure, the _owner_ of that distinctly female voice, huffed in annoyance, straightening her own black cloak and hood. Without waiting for him to respond, she shoved on by him, her shoulder bumping into his arm again as she rushed on ahead and vanished into the crowd, leaving Rowan standing there dumbfounded, wide-eyed and a heat blooming across his face that had nothing to do with the oppressive warmth of the Vaults. 

He was still staring after the now long-gone woman when Fenrys finally extracted himself from the betting pool and rejoined him, declaring the fights were about to start, his dark eyes bright with excitement beneath his hood 

Rowan tore his gaze away from that spot in the crowd where the girl had vanished, turning to look at his friend in confusion. He was still so taken aback by the run-in and that very un-ladylike outburst that it took him a moment to collect his thoughts and fully register what Fenrys had said. 

In that moment, Rowan had never been more thankful for the scarf covering the lower half of his face; he’d never be able to explain the flush that he was sure still colored his face without telling Fen about the girl who had nearly knocked him on his ass and then cursed him a buffoon. Fenrys would never let him hear the end of it.

His friend eyed him strangely, but Rowan ignored the curious look and nodded towards the growing crowds around the fighting pit. “Lead the way.” They quickly made their way through the already bustling group of onlookers until they were close enough down into the pit, arriving just as Connall Moonbeam was stepping up to the edge to take his turn.

Like most of the spectators and other competitors, Connall was dressed all in black, a hood covering his head and his face mostly concealed. Rowan wouldn’t have known him if it weren’t for Fen pointing him out immediately. The announcer hailed him by his fighting moniker, the Black Wolf, and then Connall leaped off of the ledge into the sandy hole that served as the ring to meet his first opponent. 

The roar around them was so loud that Rowan could hardly think straight as the fight began, the two combatants trading blow after blow. Befitting his name, Fen’s younger brother moved like a wolf on the attack; quick, relentless and cunning. And in what seemed like no time at all, Connall had incapacitated his opponent and was declared the winner. 

If Rowan thought the crowd was loud before, it was worse now as Connall took in his moment of victory. Deafening, the heavy hood doing little to muffle the resounding cheers. But as the minutes passed, the noise died down to a rumbling hum as people began shifting around, placing new bets and refilling their beers before hurrying back in time for the next tilt to begin. 

Round after round passed as Connall easily bested every man who dared to challenge him. Fen had raked in quite the haul on his brother’s success, having already doubled his money at least five times over. Connall was in the midst of yet another brawl. The crowd a cacophony of rowdy and drunken men cheering and jeering as they stood dangerously close to the edge of the pit. 

And Rowan was beyond ready to call it a night. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate Fen’s good-hearted attempts to cheer him up and take his mind off of… certain people, but this sort of entertainment just wasn’t his cup of tea. 

Rowan was desperately trying to think up a reasonable enough excuse that would convince Fen to let him leave when a movement across the ring caught his eye. Rowan watched as a small, dark-clad figure weaved between several large burly men before dropping into crouch at the edge of the fighting pit to watch the fight with great interest.

And he blinked in surprise. It was the girl from earlier.

Rowan took that moment of stillness to study her, since he hadn’t the opportunity earlier; no, he had been much too surprised by her… _colorful_ vocabulary and the fact that she was a woman to really notice much about her. Now he could see that she was dressed as if she were trying to hide the fact that she was a woman; wearing loose-fitting men’s clothing. Even her movements seem affected to give off the impression she was a male. 

Despite himself, Rowan wondered why she was behaving in such a manner.

The fight in the pit ended -Connall yet again the victor- but Rowan scarcely noticed, he was still too busy observing the girl. Her eyes, wide with excitement and what almost looked like amusement, were strangely familiar, even though from this distance he couldn’t tell if they were green or blue. 

She was obviously up to something, and Rowan found himself almost holding his breath in anticipation of finding out exactly what it was.

“Who would like to have the next go at our champion, hmm?” the announcer cried in his booming voice. But no one seemed keen to go up against the Wolf of the pits and lose. “Anyone?” he asked, grinning as he scanned the crowd.

Rowan saw the shift in the girl’s body language; the little tilt of her head, her shoulders squaring. And then she was pushing herself to her feet, that wicked glint visible in her eyes. Surely she wasn’t about to… 

She sauntered towards the announcer at an almost lazy gait. “I’ll have a go at him,” she declared, pitching her voice to sound deeper. She didn’t even wait for him to respond before she was leaping down into the pit with Connall. 

She began rolling her shoulders to limber them up Connall looked her over appraisingly, sizing her up and obviously deeming this to be another easy win. 

After a few moments of hesitation, the announcer snapped out of his dazed state and called the beginning of the fight. 

Connall immediately leapt into action, lunging for her, but she sidestepped, easily avoiding his outstretched hands. And then she shot forward, spinning around behind him and aimed a punch for his unprotected side. The blow connected and she sprung away before he had a chance to retaliate. 

Gods, she was fast. Faster than anyone had a right to be. Her movements quick and agile.

Rowan watched in awe as she and Connall fought. It was almost like a dance, the way she moved around him, ducking and dodging his punches and kicks while landing several of her own against various parts of Connall’s body. Always in spots he left open, as if she anticipated them… or perhaps had memorized them from his other fights. 

Sweat was starting to form on Connall’s forehead, his dark brows knitted together in frustration as what he had perceived to be an easy victory quickly became his most difficult tilt of the night. 

A wisps of blonde hair had escaped from under the girl’s good, but her eyes were still bright and lively. Fun. She was having _fun_ toying with Connall. 

And against his better sense, Rowan found himself smiling and actually enjoying this fight. Though he would never admit that to anyone. Definitely not Fenrys.

And the way she moved. Rowan didn’t understand how no one else had noticed. Maybe it was just him knowing that she was a woman that made it so obvious, but he honestly thought that the clothing did little to hide how svelte her figure was. The trimness of her waist as she twisted her body around to avoid a hit. The curve of her hips, her… 

Rowan swallowed, feeling his face heating again. This time for an entirely different reason.

And then, almost as suddenly as it had begun, the fight was over. 

The young woman slipped under Connall’s outstretched arm and delivered two quick blows to his face. He went down in a heap, addled. And then she was atop him, pinning him face down in the dir, his arms wrenched painfully behind his back and her legs locked around his shoulders and neck.

“No!” Fenrys groaned in dismay, his hands resting atop his hooded head in disbelief. “Gods dammit!” 

For the second time that night, Rowan was glad for the scarf covering the lower half of his face. This time because it hid the grin that tugged at his lips as Fenrys proceeded to curse the man who had just beat his brother and caused him to loose so much money. 

It was likely best that he didn’t mention that Connall’s opponent was actually a woman. Fen might actually murder his brother over it.

The young woman stood from where she had been perched atop Connall’s back, lifting her arms in the air above her head in victory as the obviously shocked announcer declared her the winner. Slowly, Connall pushed himself up into a sitting position, rubbing his jaw as he eyed the woman, who was currently sauntering around the pit with the most pronounced swagger that Rowan had ever seen. 

The rambunctious men next to them chose that moment to rush forward, cheering the new victor of the pits, -the Assassin, they were calling her- and Rowan momentarily lost sight of the girl. When he managed to shove by them again, peering down into the pit a heartbeat later, she was no longer there. 

Rowan’s eyes quickly scanned the edge of the ring, the crowd, searching for that small figure in black. He saw her there, amongst the spectators on the opposite side of the pit, slipping between the still celebrating spectators, and then she was gone. 

~*~

Aelin Galathynius slid into the cool darkness between two empty stalls, a good, safe distance away from the fighting pits. 

With a sigh, she hooked a finger under the cloth covering her mouth and tugged it down below her chin so that she could better catch her breath. It was so much cooler here compared to the sweltering heat near the pits, where all of those tightly packed bodies and the fires from the lamps and lanterns made the air as hot as a desert. Ironic really, that in a little over a week’s time she would be in an actual desert. She should probably get used to it.

She could still hear the crowd clamoring over her victory over the Wolf, the pit fighting champ of the Vaults, and a lazy grin tugged at the corners of her lips. She hadn’t even bothered to wait and collect her earnings for winning the fight; and really, it was mere pocket change compared to what she already possessed. 

Aelin wondered how big of a bruise to the Wolf’s ego that would be when he learned of it. Likely not as big as the one he would garner if he ever learned that he had just lost to a _little girl_. The thought made her snort.

Idly, she wondered how all of them would react if they found out who she was. Not Aelin Galathynius. No, that name would mean nothing to the lot of them. But Celaena Sardothien… the most renowned treasure hunter in all of Erilea? Aelin would be lying if she said the thought hadn’t crossed her mind to go back and reveal her identity, just so she could preen at their disbelief and chagrin.

Aelin was about to slip back out into the aisle and make her escape into the night when she heard voices approaching and she ducked down behind the stall again. 

There were two of them. Both male. 

“I can’t believe Con _lost_ to that _pipsqueak_!” one complained, his voice low and pleasant. “All of that money, gone!”

She grinned again at his whining, but then arched a brow. _Con_? That must have been the Wolf’s name. She found it curious that he would know it. Most of the fighters didn’t know who each other were outside of the Vaults, it prevented any… _unfortunate incidents_.

Aelin scooted a bit closer to the edge of her hiding spot, still crouched low, as she peered out at the two. And with a start, she realized that the taller of the two was the very same man she had bumped into earlier. 

The man in question chuckled lightly, and the sound of it caused a warmth to bloom in Aelin’s stomach. “I would watch what I say if I were you. I highly doubt they would appreciate being called a 'pipsqueak’. If they heard, you might just find _yourself_ pinned to the dirt.” His voice was deep and rumbling, and possessed a rolling lilt that was quite lovely. 

His words caused a smile to tug at her lips. She almost felt guilty for how she had startled him earlier after their run in. And for insulting him. 

From that brief glimpse of his face she had gotten when his hood had slipped during their little run in, she could tell he was young, not much older than herself. Late twenties at most. And for a moment, Aelin seriously thought about going after him and asking if she could buy him a drink. As an apology, of course. And perhaps see where things went from there? 

But…

With a groan, Aelin dismissed the idea. As regretful as it was, she didn’t have the time.

It was already late. Much later than she had intended to stay out. Tomorrow was going to be a very long and busy day preparing for the expedition she had been hired to lead to the lost city of Myrkur. Tonight had only. been about having a quick bit of fun before she was packed off to that rutting wasteland of rocks and sand halfway across the world on a fool’s errand. 

Aelin cast one last rueful glance after the man, just as he vanished up the stairs leading to the city above, and cursed her bad timing. 

Letting out a heavy sigh, she pulled her scarf back up over her mouth. She quickly checked to see that the coast was clear before slipping out from behind the wooden counter and quickly making her way up the stairs herself. 

And as she stepped out into the bitter night air, she thought again of how it really was a shame that she couldn’t buy that man a drink. But… at least her night out hadn’t been all bad.

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on tumblr @westofmoon. I post snippets there. 
> 
> I do not consent to this work being hosted on any unofficial apps or to any other websites.


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